


Id Est

by cannibalinc



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Come Inflation, Crying Stiles, Knotting, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, possible underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalinc/pseuds/cannibalinc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles maybe shouldn't have bragged about being able to keep up with werewolf endurance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Id Est

"Peter, stop, stop, please," Stiles sobs.  He pushes weakly at Peter’s slick thighs, his arms moving with the intent of a trickling creek, slow flowing and just as lacking in strength. Dehydrated. His skin is raised, sweat-chafed and begging reprieve. The blanket pressed damp to his cheek suffocates him, the cotton suffused to his gaping mouth.

A laugh, deep and grazing the soft hair on the knobs of his spine. "No."

Stiles shivers in a very mammalian way. Peter's cock, dripping and unforgivingly hard,  again god , presses into the gentle give of Stiles' red, swollen entrance, feels the fatigued muscles flutter, futile.

"You shouldn't have come to a wolf if you wanted to be fucked by a man," Peter whispers through the vibrating constant of his growl, thrusts in a languid, tireless way that doesn't say they've been at this for  hours . Stiles pries an eye open, sees the luminous glow of red, red Alpha on the white pillow-cases, tracks Peter's glare on his skin.

"Are you going to pass out again?"

Stiles mutters indignantly, noises of general unhappiness, and luxuriates in the too-much stroke of Peter's perfect, but torturously insatiable dick in his ass with a wiggle of his hips.

"Or will you come again before your delicate human strength gives out?" Upon this question, Peter's hand trails over claw pricked flesh, to Stiles' cock.

"Nooo, god,  Peter ," Stiles begs. He's been soft, raw, for the last two rounds, having already come three times. His cock is soaked in lube that's trickled down from his gaping hole and mixed with the combined fluids of his and Peter's previous orgasms, and Peter's palm slides effortlessly over the soft flesh hanging between his spread thighs.

"One more," Peter demands, long fingers of his unoccupied hand slipping in Stiles' ass, alongside his cock, and twirling firmly around and on his prostate.

Stiles' chest heaves as he cries. "I can't."

Very sharp teeth settle on his neck, and Stiles turns his face into the sheets, hiding as he sobs harder. Peter thrusts more surely, smooth and endless, raking his knuckles on the sensitive flesh inside and oh, oh no, god--

"I can't," he keens again, back and arms going slack into the mattress, ass raised. Acceptance. He feels his own body as an extension of Peter's, imagines that this is how he has always been, on the verge of sleep and orgasm, on the edge of screaming and choking. Thrusts become an ebb and flow tide, can’t close his slack mouth, incomprehensible murmuring, touches he doesn't quite register until long after they’ve grazed him, dark, muffled, can’t distinguish the shapes swirling behind his eyes, can’t, can't quite--

He jerks, coming to consciousness as though it was a plunge into the dark, and Peter groans in satisfaction.

"You tighten up so prettily when you come back," Peter purrs. He's abandoned Stiles' cock, using both hands to finger Stiles' ass alongside his dick, spreads his fingers to test the new clench. Stiles loses his inhale, shouts as Peter curls his fingers around the edge of his entrance and pulls, fucking into the space he's made.

He must be close to hysterics, because it starts to feel good, really good, Peter's fingers gliding and prodding in the path of his cock, and he moans helplessly.

"I'll have to fist you later," Peter promises, the suggestion of his thumbs stroking the taut brim of his stuffed ass. Stiles shakes his head, clenches. He comes, just barely, cries in relief, done. Peter croons behind him, runs his wet fingers down Stiles' quaking back.

"My good boy," he whispers, grinds into Stiles' ass like he wants to live there. "Want my knot?"

"Yeah, please," Stiles croaks, tried to writhe away when Peter grasps for his spent cock and runs circles over the abused skin. He wails, stomach wracked with spasms, the steady pressure of Peter's rubbing fingers making Stiles twist onto Peter's swelling cock.

The knot snags on Stoles' rim, locked, but Peter rarely stops just for this. He continues to roll his hips, fucking his knot to the taut barrier of his hole and back in again.

Stiles is desperate to get Peter's hand off of his dick, but there is no budging, Peter's teeth on his hairline, hovering next to his vulnerable spine. He knows playing with him after he's come makes him tighter for Peter.

The man's full weight presses down on him, knot straining, and he's finally,  finally coming.

Peter's chest rumbles through his body, his claws mating with Stiles' hip bones. The piercing sting is muted, distant.

"I bet I could make you swell with my come," Peter growls, petting his stomach. Stiles groans for mercy.

"Such a good boy," Peter is cooing, soothing Stiles' sore flank with a broad palm, sneaking licks to his shoulder blades, as Stiles drifts again to sleep, back arched and ass beyond full.

He's beginning to find it hard to sleep in any other position. ****

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by charlottecjhlvr.tumblr.com


End file.
